


Laughsturbating: or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying About Making Love and Love Making Mistakes

by PinkToby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #JustFuckMeUp, (I can't believe I just made that a tag), Anal Play, Anal Sex, Awkwardness, Dirty Talk, ER visits, Gore, Hand Jobs, Humor, Inappropriate Wound Care, M/M, Masturbation, Medical Kink, Murder Suit, Object Insertion, Oral Sex, Scheduled Sex, Sexual Dysfunction, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:50:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4716692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkToby/pseuds/PinkToby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because I really wanted a collection of fics where Hannigram sex goes horribly, hilariously wrong.</p><p>(Each chapter will deal with a different sex act/scenario, warnings will be added at the beginning for ease of avoiding whatever makes you uncomfortable!)</p><p>***(6/11/16) A new chapter for #JustFuckMeUp has been added to the mix!***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One Where They Have Sex Against The Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, friends, it's time to buckle up-- we're going on one hell of a weird ride!
> 
> I've read pretty much every Hannigram fic out there-- hell, I've even written a few myself!-- and I truly love it when they end up in a cozy bed with candles and roses and simultaneous orgasms. 
> 
> But...what if that DIDN'T always happen?
> 
> Let's find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter includes: Anal sex, regret

* * *

 

 

“Ah, _fuck!_ ”

Will’s back rubs deliciously raw against the dark wall of Hannibal’s study as his lover thrusts up into him at a torturously slow pace—he’s just being a _tease_ at this point, the smug bastard.  It’s an entirely new sensation to have his toes curl in the socks he hadn’t bothered to remove instead of curling in high-count cotton sheets, but it’s certainly not unpleasant by any means.

In fact, it’s downright _delightful_.

It is a true testament to Hannibal strength that he’s able to support a fair amount of Will’s weight (no matter how slight of frame he may be) by himself and still managing to fuck at a controlled pace.  Of course, he’s not without assistance—Will’s thighs are doing their part by squeezing tight around Hannibal’s hips, his nails scratching rosy lines into the flesh of the other man’s back.

“C’mon,” Will groans through gritted teeth, “Stop holding back and— _mmfph!_ ”

“So impatient…” Hannibal hums as his hips pick up the pace.  His normal veneer of calm is slipping, loosened by the hint of perspiration that shines at his temples.  He’ll be sore tomorrow, in the meat of his muscles, but having Will like this is entirely worth it. 

“Wouldn’t have to be if you just,” Will swallows, “cut to the chase instead of— _nngh_ —leaving me wanting.”

“When…have I _ever_ …left you wanting?”  Hannibal’s breathing is harsh, puffed hot into the shell of Will’s ear.  Will shivers.

“Before now?”  Will grinds his hips down as best he can, his movements limited by Hannibal’s grip on his ass but still effective enough to make the man between his legs let out a choked groan. 

“You,” Hannibal growls, “are impossible…insatiable…and altogether…”

“Yeah, yeah, less talking, more fucking,” Hannibal snarls at Will’s impish smirk—whether in jest or in genuine annoyance, it’s difficult to tell—but he obliges Will’s request for _more, faster, better_ nonetheless.  Although Hannibal would never admit it, it’s rather difficult to maneuver himself appropriately and support Will’s weight at the same time, despite his impressive strength.

“ _Finally_ ,” Will moans, “took you long enough to— _oh,_ yeah, that’s the stuff.”

“Glad you’re finding my performance…satisfactory,” Hannibal’s limbs are beginning to shake now from pleasure and pain alike, and he only hopes Will’s nearing his end.  

“ _Yes,_ ugh—that’s… _mm,_ that’s good,” Will reaches down between their bodies to tug at himself, but Hannibal, out of habit, swats Will’s hand away.

This proves to be an extraordinarily bad idea.

A sickening _crack_ can be heard above Will’s yelp of surprise, followed by Hannibal’s own pained groan as they topple to the floor together.  By some kind of divine intervention, or maybe just luck and a generous application of lubricant, they manage to slip apart on the way down.   

“ _Shit_ , Hannibal, are you okay?”

It’s hard for Hannibal to hear over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, but he’s able to nod in Will’s direction—a very good sign his neck is not, in fact, broken.  A clenching of his fingers and a wiggling of his toes confirm that his spine hasn’t been fractured either, even though his back is a burning beacon of agony. 

“Fine,” Hannibal huffs out from behind gritted teeth, “I think I just…threw out my back.”

“Okay, uh,” Will is the absolute picture of concern as he scoots over to Hannibal’s side, a hand reflexively reaching for Hannibal’s own, “Can you…do you think you could get up?”

“Perhaps,” Hannibal says with a wince, “Although I’d much prefer it if you got a Percocet from my kit.  In the bathroom, cabinet under the sink, left side.  You can’t miss it.”

“You sure I can leave you alone?  You don’t look too good, Hannibal, you’re really pale and-“

“The pills, Will, please,” Hannibal would chide himself for being so rude to his lover if the pain in his back wasn’t so great. 

To his credit, Will scurries off with a single nod, not willing to try Hannibal’s patience at the particular moment.  Hannibal will pay for his tone later, surely, after his back is healed.

By the time Will returns, glass of water and pills in-hand, Hannibal is propped up against the wall in a semblance of sitting upright.  His slacks have been removed—kicked-off, most likely—and now sit in a crumpled pile next to his ankle.  Will decides not to mention how they’ll no doubt wrinkle if left like that much longer. 

“Can’t wait to see what you’re like once those kick in,” Will says with a smirk, watching Hannibal gulp down the two Percocet in a single swallow, “I bet you’re a real treat when you’re high.”

“I’m uncoordinated at worst,” Hannibal admits, “drowsy at best.  It’s hardly exciting.”

“Trust me, nothing about this entire situation is ‘hardly exciting.’” Will chuckles, “Not every day I get dropped during sex.”

Will takes a seat on the floor next to Hannibal and playfully bumps into his shoulder.  Hannibal can’t quite disguise an answering wince, but he smiles ruefully all the same. 

“It might be of comfort for you to know that you’re the first person I’ve ever dropped during sex.”

“It does, actually.  After all, you never forget your first time.”

“I couldn’t forget this if I tried.”  Hannibal shifts his back a bit to test out the pain.  It’s still a little much, but not unbearable.  “Would you be so kind as to help me stand?  I’d rather not spend my evening on the floor.”

“You could’ve fooled me.  Come on, then,” Will rises with a sigh, “let’s get you to bed.”

It takes nearly ten minutes and quite a few muttered curses to get Hannibal on his feet, but when he’s standing pants-less in the middle of the hall with a frustrated, sweaty Will Graham bearing the majority of his weight as they baby-step across the floor—well, Hannibal supposes their evening could’ve ended much worse.


	2. The One With The Ginger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we are-- the second installment in the unpredictable saga of Hannigram bad sex fics!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter includes: a misunderstood dad joke, implications of figging

* * *

 

 

It’s half-past 7 in the evening when Will Graham stumbles through Hannibal Lecter’s front door, his eyes ringed in shadowy violet from a week of late-night midterm grading paired with a generous peppering of nightmares.  He drops his bag on the chair in Hannibal’s foyer and makes a beeline for the kitchen, hoping to snag himself a much-needed glass of wine.

Hannibal is, of course, cooking dinner when Will walks into the room, pristine white apron tied around his waist and shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow.  When offered a cheerful greeting, Will offers a half-hearted ‘ _hey_ ’ as he snatches the decanter from the kitchen island and pours himself a hearty glass of Merlot.

“I take it you’ve had a difficult day.”

“Hm.  Yeah.”  Will drinks deeply from his glass, “Rather not talk about it.”

“Would you like to help with dinner?”

“Uh, no thanks, I’d rather just…just decompress for now.  Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Will.  I understand completely.” 

A relative silence befalls the room for a few minutes, Will just as comfortable in the company of his wine as Hannibal is with the vegetables he so precisely prepares. Will allows himself to be lulled into a trance by the repetitive motions of Hannibal’s knife, the _chop-chop-chopping_ of a practiced and perfected motion soothing his frayed nerves.

“Is the zucchini really so fascinating?” Hannibal asks, an attempt at probing covered up by a playful remark.  It’s his specialty, and it almost never works on Will anymore.

“Your hands.  I like watching them.”

“Oh?  Why is that?”

“They’re strong.  Nimble, too.  I like thinking about what they can do,” Will gulps down the rest of his wine, “to me.”

“Ah, I see.”  Hannibal finishes chopping the zucchini and pushes it to the side of his cutting board—he’s never one to pass up an opportunity for spontaneous sex, but there’s no reason dinner should suffer.  “You desire something more stimulating than conversation.”

“That okay?”

“I don’t see why not.  In fact, I have half a mind to present you with a most rare opportunity.”

“Yeah?”  Will’s heart speeds up in his chest, “Like, uh, like what?”

Hannibal smiles.

“I happen to recall a conversation we had the other week about our relationship,” he says as he rearranges the food on his cutting board, “and how we’re both open to trying new things.”

“Oh, right.  I’m, uh, I’m definitely still into that.”

“I figured as much, which is why I’m suggesting we add a little _spice_ to our love life.”

When Will manages to tear his eyes from Hannibal’s face, he blanches.  There, in his lover’s hand, is a rather thick and intimidating stalk of some kind of skinned root— _ginger_ , he realizes with an almost comical gulp.  He looks from the vegetable to the man and his horror-wide eyes drink in Hannibal’s expectant smirk. 

“I, uh, we didn’t—we didn’t talk about…about, uh,” Will stands with a jolt, “You, uh, you know what, let’s just…let’s just put a rain check on, uh…  I’m gonna—I’m gonna go take a shower and, uh, I’ll be back down for dinner, so…”

Will is out of the room in a flash, nearly tripping over his own feet on more than one occasion—leaving an entirely confused Hannibal in his wake.  Hannibal looks down at the ginger and sighs.

“I didn’t think my joke was _that_ bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here's my thoughts with figging as a whole: I'm cool with any sex act, as long as it's legal, safe, and any/all participants are able to consent and do 100% consent. 
> 
> I also feel like a first-time figging adventure isn't something you just spring on your partner. "Hi, honey, how was your day? Listen, I've got this spare ginger lying around, what do you say we stick it up your ass and see what happens?"
> 
> This is absolutely not meant to be kink-shamey in any way-- if you're into it, great, just be sure to read up beforehand and stay safe! If you're with a partner, communication and prior discussion is KEY!
> 
> Basically, I did it all for the dad joke, because that's the kind of person I am. 
> 
> That being said: I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and look for an update...eventually, I suppose? I'm not exactly on a schedule here, just kind of flying by the seat of my pants (as I'm often wont to do.)
> 
> As always, drop me a line in the comments or at mean-cannibals.tumblr.com if you have any requests!


	3. The One With The Sexting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: sexting (hence the chapter title), a pixelated-but-still-recognizable dick pic I got off the Internet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I have NEVER done iPhone formatting before, so this is an exciting new venture for me! I hope it turned out okay! :)
> 
> (I stole this idea from textsfromhannibal-- you are an inspiration and I love your work!)

* * *

 

­

_“We need to talk.”_

“Hello, Jack.  Is there something I can help you with?”

_“Yes, there is.  You can start by explaining why you sent a picture of your penis to my phone with the caption ‘missing you’ underneath it.”_

“Oh.  Oh dear.”

“ _Yeah, ‘oh dear.’  To say I was taken aback is an understatement._

“I cannot even begin to apologize enough for my actions.  I honestly did not intend to send that picture to you.”

_“I don’t doubt it, but that doesn’t change the fact that I have an unsolicited picture of a coworker in my possession.  My career—and yours, for that matter—could be seriously damaged if this got into the wrong hands._

“I would never knowingly endanger your career or your reputation, Jack.  I’m terribly embarrassed, and I-”

“ _I know, I know…  Just be sure you’re texting the right person next time, alright?”_

“You have my word.”

 _“Good.  Now, I am going to delete the image and we’ll pretend this entire thing never happened._  

“I truly appreciate your discretion, and I hope I haven’t caused any harm to our friendship.”

_“No, you’re fine.  It was an honest mistake, could’ve happened to anyone.  Just, uh, just double-check before you send, okay?”_

“I will.  Thank you, Jack.”

_“No problem.  I’ll call you tomorrow to update you about the case.”_

“Until then.  Goodnight, Jack.”

 _“Goodnight, Hannibal_.”   

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real talk, I spent over an hour looking at pages and pages of various erect penises this morning searching for the best options, but then I started to feel overwhelmed by the sea of dicks crashing against my eyeballs so I just tried to pick one. 
> 
> As always, feel free to hit me up in the comments or at mean-cannibals.tumblr.com with any suggestions for future chapters!


	4. The One With the Flavored Lube

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter includes: rimming, anal fingering, disappointment

It’s 3:31 in the morning when Will clicks the yellow ‘Add to Cart’ button, 3:37 when he goes to place the final order.  At 3:39, when he receives a confirmation e-mail, he takes a long sip of water, as if he could wash away the shame that burns hot in his chest and the tingles of excitement that crackle in his stomach. 

_Friday can’t come fast enough._

* * *

 

“I am hardly a connoisseur of flavored personal lubricants, but I imagine this… _Pomegranate Passion_ is palatable, at the very least.”

“Just be glad you didn’t get bacon,” Will murmurs into a pillow, “Amazon isn’t exactly known for their gourmet lube selection.”

“There’s something to be said about the pomegranate.”  Hannibal uncaps the bottle and squeezes a dollop onto his index and middle fingers.  “Full of antioxidants, rich in color…the fruit of the Underworld, as it were.”

“I didn’t come to hear you wax poetic about Greek mythology.”

“I was under the impression that you haven’t come yet at all, dear Will.  Shall I grant you a moment to compose yourself?”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Will turns on his side and quirks an eyebrow at his lover’s slicked fingers, “You gonna let me have a taste of that?”

“If it pleases you.”

Will wastes no time sucking Hannibal’s fingers into his mouth, his tongue dancing figure eights around the knuckles as he pulls off of them with a lewd _pop!_

“Pretty good,” Will says, “although I’m hardly the gourmand in the room.”

“I beg to differ,” The bed dips where Hannibal sits down next to Will’s hip, “You have excellent taste.”

“In what, men?”

“Precisely.”

Will smirks.

“Oh, shut up and kiss me, you self-congratulating bastard.”

They fall into each other with practiced ease, limbs knowing just the way to tangle and hands knowing just how to tease after many hours of exploring each other’s bodies.  The smoldering embers of their desire from earlier that evening are fanned into a flame with wandering hands and teasing kisses. 

“Are you ready, Will?”

“ _God_ yes!”

“Very well.”

It’s far from the first time that Will has had Hannibal’s face nose-deep in his ass, but he still feels a giddy sort of nervousness during the first swipe of his lover’s tongue against his sensitive flesh.  Will buries his face into the pillow and tries not to sound too desperate, but Hannibal’s just plain _good_ at everything he does.  How delightfully annoying.

When mouth is replaced by lube-coated fingers, Will shivers.  Hannibal had, of course, taken the time to warm it up to the best of his ability and patience, but it’s still cool in contrast to the heated lips that had been upon him moments ago.  Two fingers idly trace patterns on his flesh, teasing. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Will grunts, “alright, do it, I’m ready.”

“Impatient,” Hannibal hums and presses a kiss to Will’s lower back, “and yet I see no reason to deny you tonight.”

“’M not impatient, I’m a fucking delight.  Now get down there and— _oh!_ ”

The first finger slides inside of his body surprisingly easily, gently probing in a most sinful manner.  Will feels Hannibal’s breath, hotly huffed against his intimate flesh, before a long, slow swipe of Hannibal’s tongue has him pressing his face into the pillow to silence his sounds of pleasure.  It’s been far too long since they’ve done this, enough time for Will to have forgotten how delightful the dueling sensations are, and he groans in disappointment when he feels Hannibal retreat.

“ _Oh, come on!_ ” Will groans with a choked laugh, “Don’t make me beg you _again_!”

“Please,” Hannibal says, his voice surprisingly small and terse, “excuse me for a moment.”

The mattress shifts as Hannibal rises, and Will looks up just in time to see the bathroom door close. 

“Uh, Hannibal,” Will calls out, “Are you, uh, are you okay?”

Hannibal doesn’t answer.  All Will hears for a long moment is running water and a low bubbling…what even _is_ that?  It’s impossible to tell.  With a sigh, Will snatches up a hand towel from the bedside table and wipes himself clean, the fruity-scented lube feeling cold and uncomfortable after a lack of attention. 

By the time he’s slipping on his shorts, Hannibal bursts out of the bathroom in a quiet fury, toothbrush in mouth and hands clenched at his sides.  If he senses Will’s confusion, he doesn’t let on; he storms past Will and snatches up the flavored lubricant.  His gaze narrows as he reads the label.

“Arburrae.”

“Wait, what?”

“ _Arburrae!_ ” The bottle is thrust into Will’s line of vision, and Will has to squint to read the fine print.

“Wait,” Will says, “Aspartame?”

“ _Mm-hm.”_

“Oh.  I take it you’re not a fan?”

Hannibal furrows his brow and takes up the toothbrush once more, scrubbing intently at the inside of his mouth.  Will rolls his eyes.

“Such a drama queen.”

Hannibal’s nostrils flare, but he stays silent.  He trudges his way back into the bathroom, looking slightly hurt.  Will considers the bottle for another moment.

“So you want me to throw the lube out, or…?”

“What I want,” Hannibal growls from the bathroom, “is for you to thrust that disgusting sludge back into the pits of Hell where it belongs.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll get rid of it,” Will placates as he takes out his cell phone, “but first…”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you have ANY idea how hard it was for me not to make an "ASS-partame" joke??? I restrained myself for once. 
> 
> If you have any ideas for a future chapter, hit me up in the comments below or at mean-cannibals.tumblr.com!
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	5. The One With the Plastic Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter includes: anal sex, misfortune, discomfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wrote this a long time ago-- like a long, LONG time ago-- and just recently rediscovered it! Funnily enough, it fits with this fic's theme, so...here we go!

Hannibal Lecter considered himself to be a most accommodating man—he would alter meal plans according to his guests’ tastes, he would (in most cases) allow his patients to choose where to sit during each session, and he was always more than open to rescheduling appointments if the need ever arose.

So, when Will Graham came into his room one night after a hunt and asked him to wear the murder suit—and _only_ the murder suit—during sex, well, how could he refuse?

Of course, like many seemingly-flawless ideas, there were some unforeseen caveats.

_Scriiich Squrrr Schiiiip_

“Oh, uh, I’m s-sorry…” Will Graham panted as he gripped Hannibal’s plastic-covered shoulders and attempted to grind down on his cock.

“Think nothing of it,” Hannibal rasped against his ear, trying desperately to ignore the burning of his chafed thighs as he bucked up into Will, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“ _Yes,_ I…I just…” 

_Skeeerch Skurrrk Rrreeech_

“Ah, I can’t take it anymore!”

Will’s eyes were filled with a rage-inspired fire as he hopped off Hannibal’s lap and snatched the lube from the bedside table.  Grumbling, he coated the insides of his thighs and inguinal area liberally before slamming the bottle back down and straddling his lover once more.

“ _Oooh,_ that’s much better,” Will sighed as he sank back down on Hannibal’s waiting cock without the added sound of plastic squeaking and groaning with every minute movement. 

Hannibal only groaned in response, leaning back so he could better see Will frantically ride him.  Will was getting close, and thankfully, so was he—he couldn’t _wait_ to get out of that sweaty, clingy, _stifling_ suit! 

“Oh, I’m close, I-I” Will moaned, “Almost there, j-just a little— _oh shit!_ ”

On a particularly rough thrust, Will’s lube-slick fingers and thighs managed to lose their purchase on Hannibal’s body, causing him to slip and fall flat onto Hannibal’s chest. 

“ _No,”_ Hannibal growled as he grabbed Will’s hips and drove into him with a desperate vigor, “too late to turn back, we are _finishing this!_ ”

Will yelped in surprise but worked his hips as best as he could—his palms were too slippery to push himself back up, but that didn’t seem to matter.  In just a handful of moments, he was coming against slick plastic as Hannibal shouted out his release.

“Will,” Hannibal breathed, still panting as he came down from his orgasmic high, “I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah, Hannibal?”

“You are my partner and I love you,” Hannibal said, “But we are never doing _that_ again.”

“You know,” Will said with a laugh, “I was just about to say the same thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Even when your entire body is covered in a condom, sex can still be unsafe! 
> 
> (Oooh, that joke was bad!)
> 
> Hit me up at mean-cannibals.tumblr.com for more shenanigans and, if you want, throw out some chapter suggestions in the comments! I'm always looking for ideas :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, friends!


	6. The One With the Scheduled Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes: sleepy handjobs, light dirty talk, and one particularly unfunny joke about balls
> 
> I've taken an all-dialogue approach to this chapter just for shits and giggles, so I hope you like it! It's formerly uncharted territory for me!

“Will.”

“Mmph.”

“Will, are you awake?”

“ _Mm_ , yeah, ‘m up. Dogs okay?”

“The dogs are fine.”

“Good. You okay?”

“Yes.”

“Then what’d you wake me up for?”

“It’s Tuesday night.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Will…it’s _Tuesday night_.”

“You already said that— _oh._ ”

“Indeed.”

“ _Shit_. What time is it?”

“Half-past 10 PM. I was hoping we could use the ‘technically it’s Wednesday morning’ excuse, too.”

“Fuckin’ hell.”

“Indeed.”

“Can’t we just…skip this week or something?”

“If we skip this week, then we have permission to skip other weeks. We’ve made a commitment, Will, and we need to honor it.”

“Christ, you make it sound like we’re on a high school sports team.”

“I’m repressing the urge to say something about ball-handling…”

“Hannibal, please, now’s not the time for jokes.”

“It got you to smile.”

“I don’t need to smile right now, I need to sleep.”

“And to fulfill your Tuesday night obligation with me.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Netflix and Tuesday night obligation?”

“You never know. Are you truly so against being intimate with me, Will?”

“Not completely. I mean, I _like_ having sex with you—I really, _really_ like it, but…I mean, if I wasn’t so tired, I’d probably be all over you right now.”

“Would you?”

“Yeah, I mean…you’re wearing those pajamas I like and everything…”

“Do they arouse you?”

“You know they do. That’s why you wore them.”

“Perhaps.”

“’Perhaps’ my ass, Hannibal. You’re trying to seduce me, aren’t you?”

“Always, dear Will.”

“Well, it’s working… Pants off, we’re doing this.”

“Very well. May I ask what exactly ‘this’ is that we’re doing?”

“Jerk each other off and try not to fall asleep.”

“Sounds like quite the challenge, but I suppose I could give it a try.”

“Yeah, really. So, uh…you ready?”

“Yes, you?”

“Yep, so, uh…let’s… Oh.”

“Hm?”

“Feels nice. Like, uh, really nice.”

“Good. I’ve missed your touch.”

“Me too. Shit, Han, I forgot how good you are at this.”

“A little faster, please, Will.”

“Mhmm, yeah… _fuck_ , that’s good. Can’t wait until we can fuck again, keep thinking about it during office hours.”

“What do you think about?”

“You…uh, obviously. Your hands, your mouth, _shit_ , touching me all over. Me touching you all over. Sucking you off, fucking you, getting fucked.”

“ _Mm, Will_.”

“You getting close?”

“Yes, please, I-“

“Me too, I— _oh God_ , do that again, do that—“

“I’m…Will, I’m going to-“

“ _Oh, fuck!_ ”

“ _Will._ ”

…

…

…

“Will, thank you, that was—Will?”

“…”

“Will, are you asleep?”

“…”

“Ah. Well, goodnight to you too.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not giving up on this fic, I promise! Just a lot of real-life stuff going on!
> 
> Hit me up at mean-cannibals.tumblr.com for fun meme times
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


	7. The One With the ER Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter includes: ER visits, a teensy bit of medical kink (maybe?), foreign object removal, and perhaps the LAST person Hannibal would want poking around his ass doing just that

_“Hmmm, Will_.”

“That feel good?”

“ _Ah,_ yes, it’s…it’s _wonderful_.”

“You should see yourself, _shit_ , you look amazing.”

“More, I…I need _more_. _Deeper_.”

“You’ve taken pretty much the whole thing already, Han.”

“ _Mm._ ”

“Want me to fuck you with it?”

“Yes, _uh_ , please!”

“…”

“ _Will_ , please, _move_!”

“Wait.”

“ _For fuck’s sake, Will, stop teasing me!_ ”

“I’m not. I’m— _shit_ , it’s not moving.”

“What do you _mean…_ ‘it’s not moving?’”

“I think it’s…it’s stuck.”

“That’s, _mmph,_ that’s impossible.”

“Hannibal, I can’t get it to budge.”

“…”

“…Hannibal?”

“Turn it off.”

“I—“

“ _Now._ ”

“Okay, okay…there. That better?”

“Not entirely. Try pulling it out now.”

“Alright, let me just… Shit, I think it just went in deeper!”

“…”

“It’s slippery and…I mean, it’s really in there. Can you try to…push it out?”

“Not without causing myself a great deal of pain.”

“So what do we do?”

“Hand me my pants, Will. We need to go to the hospital.”

* * *

 

Luckily, the ER at Johns Hopkins was relatively empty. Unfortunately, it was still the ER, and it was still the _Johns Hopkins_ ER. Hannibal had been wary of going to his former place of employment to handle his delicate situation, but his desire for convenience and quality of care eventually won out.

He had been lucky—none of the nurses bustling through the lobby had recognized him, nor had the receptionist batted an eye when he handed over his initial paperwork. He had even managed to get back to an exam room without so much as a passing glance.

Perhaps he would be lucky.

“Uh, Doctor Lecter?”

Or, perhaps not.

A gangly man with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses pushed halfway down his nose enters the exam room, his knuckles white as he death-grips a blue clipboard in his left hand. There’s a ghost of a small ink stain on the pocket of his white coat and his plain brown shoes are terribly scuffed along the sides.  

“Doctor Johnson,” Hannibal replies, “it certainly has been a while.”

“You guys know each other?”

“Johnson is a former intern of mine.”

“Yeah, I, uh,” Dr. Johnson stammers, “He was my, uh, mentor.”

“Oh,” Will says, watching the nervous-looking young man walk over to the sink and wash his hands, “well, this should be fun.”

“Wait, why?” Johnson’s face goes a shade paler.

“Please feel free to ignore my partner,” Hannibal says with a pointed look in Will’s direction and a deep sigh, “I’m experiencing an 18-88.”

“Wait, you’re, uh—ah, what?”

“Code eighteen-dash-eighty-eight, Johnson, surely you haven’t gotten so lax in your professional knowledge to forget the basic medical codes I had you memorize during the first week of training.”

“Excuse him,” Will says with a glare thrown Hannibal’s way, “not only does he have a metaphorical stick up his ass, but now he’s got a literal one, too.”

“Oh,” Dr. Johnson immediately flushes to the tips of his ears, “Y-you mean…?”

“Foreign body lodged in the rectum,” Hannibal cuts in, “an 18-88, like I said. Do try to keep up.”

“Right, um,” Dr. Johnson washes his hands in the exam room sink, “what, uh, what exactly…is it? The, uh, foreign body, I mean.”

“It’s approximately seven inches in length and three inches in diameter, with—”

“It’s a vibrator, Hannibal,” Will interjects, “Honestly, you used to be a doctor! You know dancing around the issue will only make it worse.”

“It’s, uh, it-it’s alright,” Dr. Johnson stammers, “this is a-a delicate situation, patients usually have a hard time admitting-“

“I don’t have a problem admitting anything,” Hannibal snaps, “I’m just disinclined to divulge information about my sexual preferences to doctor who once nearly killed a man during a routine appendectomy by perforating the stomach and letting the patient bleed out in my OR.”

Will’s jaw drops. Dr. Johnson’s jaw drops. Hannibal sighs internally. He knows he’s crossed a line, he _knows_ he shouldn’t have been so…well, _rude,_ but he has an excuse.

“Hannibal,” Will grits out from behind clenched teeth, “apologize _right now_.”

“No, no,” Dr. Johnson replies, “Perhaps I should, uh, see if there’s another doctor that could take his case.”

“No, please, that really won’t be- _dammit_!“ Will is trying desperately to quell his rage, but it’s getting more and more difficult with each passing second.

“I think Dr. Whitmore is working tonight,” Dr. Johnson says, turning his attention towards Hannibal, “As are Shyu and Rosenberger. Their, uh, their interns would really value practicing foreign body retrieval, especially on someone as, ah, respected and knowledgeable as you.”

Hannibal’s eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t.”

“Patient comfort and satisfaction is always top priority,” Dr. Johnson smiles wryly, “Pretty sure you, uh, you taught me that.”

Will’s eyes go wide and a ghost of a smirk plays at the corners of his lips. This guy is _good_.

“So, yeah. Me or them, it’s your choice.”

Hannibal’s expression remains hard as stone, as if he’s trying to intimidate the other doctor into backing down, but Dr. Johnson doesn’t budge an inch. It’s breathtaking. Will resists the urge to take a picture on his phone for future reference.

“I suppose it would be…inconsiderate to pull yet another doctor away from their duties,” Hannibal concedes, “You may proceed.”

Dr. Johnson’s entire demeanor lights up for a moment, before he swallows down his excitement and adopts a more clinical façade.

“Let’s get started.”

* * *

 

The initial exam goes off without a hitch—and more than a few glares in Will’s direction from a grumpy Hannibal—and it’s not long until Hannibal is lightly sedated and laying on his side awaiting the cold stretch of a speculum exactly where he doesn’t want one.

“Luckily,” Dr. Johnson says as he snaps on a fresh pair of gloves, “the object itself should be easy to retrieve, given its, uh, relatively shallow location. That’s, uh, that’s a very good thing. If you like, I can, uh, have Mr. Graham wait for you in the waiting room…”

“For the third damn time,” Hannibal says, his speech slightly slurred, “he’s staying.”

“I got him into this mess, it’s only fair that I see him through it,” Will pats Hannibal’s IV’d hand fondly, “And besides, Doctor, it’s in your best interest that I stay. Drugs may slow him down, but Hannibal’s rather tenacious.”

Dr. Johnson mutters something that sounds like ‘ _Don’t I know it,’_ but fortunately for him, Hannibal is momentarily too interested in the moon-and-stars pattern on his hospital gown. It’s rather endearing, albeit slightly disconcerting, to see him like this—blissed-out and damn near _relaxed_ —and Will resists the urge to snap a quick picture on his phone for posterity’s sake.

Of course, aforementioned ‘blissed-out look’ didn’t last very long, because at the first touch of a gloved hand against his rectum had Hannibal (rightfully so) flinching and pulling a rather comically disgusted expression.

“Does it hurt?” Will cards a sympathetic hand through Hannibal’s hair.

“Feels bad,” Hannibal mumbles, leaning into the touch, “Not painful, just… _fuck, no!”_

“Hannibal, please,” Dr. Johnson says, “you need to…need to stay still.”

“Well _excuuuuuuuuse me_ for not being thrilled about having my former intern’s hand up my ass!” Hannibal grumbles, then turns his attention to Will, “And _you_ …no laughing!”

“I can’t… _fuck_ , I can’t help it! You’re just so…”

“ _Single, if you play your cards right_.” When Will starts giggling even harder, the hand holing Hannibal’s shaking with every chuckle, Hannibal rolls his eyes. “Oh my _God_ , Johnson, just get the…the clamp-y…”

“Forceps?”

“Right. Get them before I get them myself and-“

“Hannibal, they’re, uh,” Dr. Johnson coughs politely, “They’re already inside of you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I, uh, I’m currently gripping the…object. Like I said before, it wasn’t too deep…so…”

“Well fuck me, didn’t even notice,” His expression is thoughtful for a moment, almost taken-aback, before snapping back to mild annoyance, “Well, the hell you waiting for? Get it out!”

“Would you prefer I be quick or-?”

“What the hell do you think?”

“Okay then, you asked for it…”

In one fluid, practiced motion, Dr. Johnson pulls the vibrator out with seemingly no effort at all. How innocent it looks now, lying blush pink and lube-slick on a paper-covered metal tray, in contrast to Hannibal, whose face is greyish white and his lower jaw hanging slack from its hinges. It’s a miracle he doesn’t immediately pass out into a dead faint.

“Hey, you okay, Han?” Will looks legitimately concerned for his partner’s well-being, eyes darting nervously between Hannibal and Dr. Johnson.

“He should be fine, Mr. Graham. There’s no sign of internal damage, just some, uh, residual inflammation.” Dr. Johnson smiles smugly at Hannibal as he discards his used gloves, “Now, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this, but you should, uh, be more careful next time. Don’t insert anything into your rectum unless it has a flared base. Of course, if you choose otherwise, just know that I’ll, uh, I’ll happily help you out again. It’d be pretty poetic, y’know— _you_ causing the perforated bowel and _me_ having to fix it.”

“Hm,” Hannibal hums, the pink slowly coming back to his cheeks, “I would…be fortunate to have such a qualified surgeon. You’ve learned well.”

“Yeah, well…” Dr. Johnson shrugs, “I may’ve had a jerk of a teacher but, uh, he knew what he was doing. Speaking of which, can I trust you to, uh, take it easy for a few days? Ibuprofen for the pain, no sex for a week, that kind of thing…”

“I’ll make sure he behaves, don’t worry,” Will reassures, “I can’t thank you enough for helping us out with our…delicate situation.”

“No problem at all. It happens pretty often, uh, all things considered.” Dr. Johnson extends his hand for Will to shake, and Will obliges readily, “The meds should be wearing off pretty soon, so, uh, you can rest for a few minutes and then go check out and stuff. So, uh, take care, Hannibal. I’ll, uh…not to be rude or anything, but I hope we, uh, don’t meet like this again anytime soon.”

“Trust me,” Hannibal mumbles, “the feeling is mutual.”

And with that, Dr. Johnson leaves Hannibal and Will in peace, his scuffed-up shoes squeaking with each fast-paced step he takes on the cold linoleum floor.

Hannibal decides that, in light of recent events, he won’t eat Dr. Johnson—at least, not quite yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, fun facts:
> 
> 1) I named him "Dr. Johnson" because "Johnson" is slang for penis. In my fics, even the DOCTORS are dick jokes!
> 
> 2) I made up the medical code for foreign body extraction from the anus. It's 18-88 because on a standard American telephone, it spells BUTT because I am both mature and original.
> 
> 3) I don't know anything about any of this, so some of it (most of it) is probably wrong. My b.
> 
> 4) This is actually the chapter I started writing first when this fic was born, but I kept getting writer's block every time I worked on it :/ I finally got it done, though...nearly 2 months since the last update! Yikes! 
> 
> Anyways, you know the drill: I'm always down for comments or questions, just hit me up in the comments section of this page OR at my tumblr mean-cannibals.tumblr.com for more poorly executed jokes and such 
> 
> Take care, everyone <3


	8. The One With the Bathtub Metaphors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, friends, today we have a rather...special contribution to this collection. In honor of #JustFuckMeUp, I wrote the 'worst' thing I could think of at two o'clock in the morning-- a drabble about staunching blood flow in an wildly inappropriate way. 
> 
> PLEASE BE WARNED: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES DRUG-INDUCED SHENANIGANS AND GORE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

The fall from Hannibal’s cliffside hideaway had been, to the surprise of both participants, rather kind. The ocean, in all her freezing mercy, had accepted their plunging bodies and borne them safely to shore. 

The trek back up to the house had been another matter entirely, but with adrenaline kick-starting his will to live, Will Graham managed to half-drag his companion up the path and across the threshold. 

It was then that Will realized that his face and his shoulder really, really hurt.

Luckily, Hannibal had come prepared. There was a well-stocked medical kit in one of the kitchen cabinets, with a veritable rainbow of muscle relaxers and pain killers in both pill and injectable form. Will decided to forego the oral medications and ready two syringes of morphine right off the bat.

Taking surgical shears, Will absolutely massacred their clothes in an attempt to get them off so he could better examine their bodies. After a quick patch job of their assorted wounds (not horrible, all things considered), Will administered the drugs to Hannibal first, and then himself.

The good news that, almost immediately, both Hannibal and Will’s pain all but faded away.

The bad news is that they were both incredibly high.

In hindsight, stitching first would have been the correct approach, but with the dizzy drunkenness of medication, neither can be bothered to care. Yes, they had both probably lost a lot of blood, but their situation was hardly dire enough that an hour of slow blood trickle would kill them. 

No, now was the time for resting, for enjoying the warmth and quiet that the morphine brought, for—

“Will,” Hannibal slurs, flopping a hand onto Will’s uninjured shoulder, “Will, I want…want something…want you to do something.”

“Mm?”

“Will…love you and want you to…”

“Love you too, ‘nbal.”

“Put it…inside me…”

“Wha?”

“Will…want you to, to put your…”

“Huh? Han, buddy, don’ fall asleep.”

“Hm? Oh…sorry…” Hannibal, in all his strung-out glory, “Want you to…to put it…in the hole.”

“What…in where?”

“Put it…in the…the bullet hole, ’cause you love me and I love you too.”

“But what…what do you want in there?”

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Hannibal’s hand grappled at Will’s dick.

“That. Want it in me. The, the hole from the…the gun…”

“Wait…shit, ‘Anble, what?”

“Won’t hurt me. Can’t feel anything.”

“Yeah, but…dangerous?”

“Probly. But could also help…stop the blood coming out. Like…like a bathtub, stop the water going away.”

“Baths are nice.”

“…Will?”

“Sorry, thinkin’ ‘bout…bubbles…”

“You love me, you…you gotta do this. Don’t want my bubbles to be all gone. Gotta…plug it up.”

“Right, gotta…gotta help you…”

It takes quite a few attempts for Will and Hannibal to get into a proper position—their knees knock together and Will takes an elbow to the nose somehow—but they eventually settle on their sides facing each other. Hannibal’s head is pressed against Will’s chest and it is, by all accounts, a rather sweet embrace.

Minus the clumsy hand guiding Will’s flaccid penis into the wound in Hannibal’s side, of course. 

“Han, is it…you put it in yet?”

“’m trying…almost have it…”

“Oh, I…I think it’s…oh, it…feels warm and…and squishy. You…you okay?”

“Hurts a little, but…blood stopping…”

“Yeah?”

“Feels full, too. Nice. Think you found my liver.”

“Oh. Hi, liver.”

“Thank you for…plugging my bathtub.”

“Welcome.”

“Will, ‘m tired.”

“Me too. Gonna just…rest my eyes for a minute…”

“’kay, me…too…”

And so they fell asleep, connected dick-to-side, unconcerned about the disturbing scene that would unfold when they woke up from their drug-induced nap. 

Ah.

The things we do for love.

**Author's Note:**

> Have an idea for future chapters? 
> 
> Drop a message in my inbox at mean-cannibals.tumblr.com or comment below!
> 
> Thank you for reading and stay weird :)


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